


The Squire's Tail

by vatnalilja



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vatnalilja/pseuds/vatnalilja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of travel, the Lone Wanderer returns home to the Capital Wasteland to find most things have stayed the same, with one notable exception--the young Elder who had finally grown into a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I DEFINITELY DO NOT REGRET THE TITLE OF THIS STORY
> 
> This story has at least three (?) chapters, of which I am posting as I complete them. Chapter one is pretty fluffy. If you're here for the action (!YEAH!), just skip halfway down chapter 2.
> 
> I've also tried to keep the Lone Wander as generic as possible.

She had spent a long time away from the Capital Wasteland. It almost seemed like a dream from where she stood up on the hill, looking down at the buildings in the distance. Somewhere between here and there hid Vault 101, a place she barely considered to be home at this point. It was strange to have so many memories of the place but to feel utterly detached from it. She hoped Amata was doing well. 

Beyond the vault was the the Citadel, the river, and Rivet City. Her thoughts trailed from Amata to Butch. Was he still there in Rivet City, cutting hair by day and getting drunk by night? Had leaving the vault provided the freedom he actually craved, or had he just been sitting in the old carrier like a homebody? 

It didn’t matter, because she wasn't excited to see Butch or even Amata. She doubted they had changed much at all. But she was eager to get back to the Citadel. She had a pack full of rare books she'd collected throughout the country and they has a particular young man's name on them. She reshouldered the uneven weight of her pack and began down the bank. Her ever present companion let out a cheerful bark and trotted close behind her. 

***

The Citadel didn't look much different, still in shambles, but the guard standing duty out front did. His power armor was a model she hadn't ever seen before... bigger and more robust. She also didn't recognize the voice that came from within it. 

"No civilians."

"It's a good thing I'm not a civilian then," she said as she pulled her dog tags from beneath her shirt. 

The knight peered down at them and then at her, long and hard. He turned and walked to the gate's intercom, pressing the button and sharing a brief exchange with the other end. She couldn't hear the conversation well, but he did keep looking at her. She caught snippets of sentences--he seemed to be describing her. 

"Uh huh. And a mangy looking blue dog. Yep."

She reached down and patted Dogmeat's head. 

The knight made his way back over. 

"My apologies, Star Paladin," he said. "I came on board after you left the Capital Wasteland. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She smiled, giving him a courteous nod. Rank meant little to her. This one had been given to her because it was the most appropriate way to account for her connection to the Brotherhood, as loose as it was. They owed her a great deal, but she had never wanted to be a rank and file member.

"Don't sweat it," she said. "I'd rather have you be cautious than caught off guard."

With that, she patted the plating covering his arm and made her way to the gates. Dogmeat spun in circles a few times as he excitedly recognized his surroundings, tail wagging vigorously. He was in nose first after she opened the gate, racing ahead of her to the inner bailey. 

"Yeah boy," she said, feeling her own pace quicken. "We're home!" 

They passed through the second gate and into the training grounds surrounded by the decaying structure that once held so much classified information before the war. But even crumbling, it made a hell of a fortress. The walls gave a feeling of fortification she enjoyed that the air base lacked. Maybe, she surmised, it had something to do with her childhood in the vault.

She stopped and took the sight in. Little had changed. Initiates were being put through all sorts of exercises, from target practice to hand to hand combat, across the lawn. There were more than ever, though, and they all looked so young. She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. It probably had more to do with her being twenty-eight than anything else. 

"God," she muttered, her hand now on her forehead, pushing up her hair. She suddenly felt like... an adult.

"Star Paladin?" 

She turned to her side and saw a familiar face approaching her, his arm outstretched. He looked a little older and a little wiser, but as handsome as ever. 

"Knight Danse!" she said, grabbing his hand. He would have been happy with a solid shake, but she pulled him in and gave him a brief hug. She wasn't hung up on decorum the same way he was. 

"Paladin now," he said, his brown eyes glimmering with pride. 

"Congratulations!" she said, letting him go. Dogmeat pranced around them, nosing Danse in the back of the legs until the paladin leaned down and scratched his ear gently. 

"You look no worse for wear," Danse said, standing back up straight. "The Wasteland usually isn't so kind."

She gave a small shrug with a grin. "I'm a born wanderer. A little tough and a lot lucky. New uniforms?" 

She couldn't help but notice the orange jumpsuit Danse was sporting, mostly because it left so little to the imagination. The thing fit him like a glove.

"They're a godsend," Danse said. "They make power armor much easier to wear. Less sweat, less chafing, less everything."

Less everything was absolutely correct.

"I'm sure we can find you one," he said. "You've seen the changes we've made to the power armor?" 

"Just outside," she said, jerking her thumb the way she had come. "Looks like you guys have really been putting that Enclave research to good use."

"Once you get settled in, go out to airbase, see what we've done to the Prydwen and get yourself a new set of armor," he said. "You had better report in to Elder Maxson, though."

"Is he downstairs?" she asked. 

"I saw him on the grounds earlier, so the chances are good."

She reached out again and clasped his hand. 

"I'll see you later then," she said. 

He gave her a by the book salute and then turned around, resuming his work of yelling at his crew where they trained. They all looked awfully green, but he'd have them whipped into shape in no time. After taking one last look at the lawn of struggling trainees, she made her way down the steps and into the belly of the fortress. 

The smell of the basement, the slight flickering of the lights, the sound of metal on metal... they all filled her with nostalgia in a way no other place could. She came to the end of the hall and found herself facing the expected guard outside the Great Hall. She gave a small wave as she made her way past them around the A ring. They watched her go by them in mild confusion, her face unfamiliar to both of them. She hoped no one else would recognize her before getting to Maxson's quarters. She was eager to see the boy. 

She mentally chastised herself. He wouldn't be a boy any longer. He was hardly a boy when she left, having just been promoted to Elder--the youngest Elder ever. He would be nineteen now, the same age she was when she left the vault, and god knows how much of a handful she had been at that age. With all of that in mind, she suddenly found herself in front of his quarters, yet another guard staring her down.

"Is... the Elder in?" she asked, suddenly feeling a little sheepish. She had knocked on this door plenty of times before, going back to each Elder Lyons.

"Do you have business with the Elder?" the guard asked tersely. 

She made a small face, feeling her the skin of her neck grow taut.

"He's not... expecting me, if that's what you're asking, but I think he'll want to see me," she said. With that, she reached out and pressed the buzzer to Maxson's door, feeling suddenly self-conscious. She assumed he'd be happy to see her, but perhaps she was interrupting something important than a return she was beginning to worry was more important in her own mind than anyone else's. She cleared her throat and looked down at her boots, feeling her face grow red. She should just leave a message and go drop her things off. He could find her on his own--

"What is it?"

The door opened and the voice that greeted her was gruff, slightly annoyed.

She looked up and tried to flash her winningest smile, but it faltered, partly because of her own hesitation and partly because of the sight before her.

"Arthur?" she asked, her eyes growing wide.

"I'll be damned," he said, opening the door wider. 

She now got an even better look at him as the light from the hallway spilled over him. He was a head taller than her and had put on about fifty pounds of sheer muscle. To top it all off, he had grown a full beard--something he was not capable of when she left. A part of her had still been expecting a boy with a gash on his face and a voice that cracked at embarrassing times. What stood in front of her was... a man.

"Come in, come in," he said, waving her in with his hand. 

She ducked into his quarters, feeling the blush extend from her cheeks to her ears. Dogmeat scuttled in between her legs before he closed the door behind them. He then grabbed her pack, helping her unshoulder it. It fell to the ground with a loud thud, heavier than he had expected. He looked at it and then at her.

"Christ, woman. You could have put that down anywhere as soon as you arrived," he said. "Did you come right here?"

She chuckled nervously. "I guess I was eager to see you," she said.

She turned and looked at him again, sizing him up. She was still having a hard time believing what she was seeing. It looked like him, for the most part; however, the dark circles under his eyes and creases in his forehead aged him significantly. She wasn't surprised that his duties had affected him, but she hadn't been prepared for it.

"You look... good," he said. She looked almost exactly the way he remembered, except a little thinner from travel.

"You look like a goddamned adult!" she said, unable to hold in her bewilderment any longer. "Who is this and where did he put Arthur? When did you get taller than me?" 

She circled him, looking him up and down. He wore a similar uniform to Danse's, but all black. And if Danse's uniform fit him like a glove, Arthur's might as well have been painted onto him. She came back around to front and center and held her arms out to her side, let out a huge sigh, and let them fall to her side.

"I feel old," she muttered.

"You _are_ almost thirty now," he said, giving her a look she had a hard time categorizing. He was definitely giving her a hard time about it, though. 

With that, he reached out and pulled her into a tight hug. It was impossible for him to fully understand what she felt when to him, she hard hardly changed. He couldn't measure the passage of time in her appearance. She had been gone for three years, but when he opened that door and saw her there, it seemed barely different than before she had left. 

She wrapped her arms around her dear friend, his chest so broad that she could barely get them all the way round. She pressed her cheek up against his collarbone and closed her eyes. He was warm and he smelled like whiskey, which was new. She could hear the faint sound of his heartbeat, which was reassuring in a slightly uncomfortable way. She let out another small sigh.

The hug lasted would could be considered a bit too long by most standards, crossing over into a little awkward, but each of them had a hard time letting go. She finally pushed herself away gently and squeezed his arms, looking up at him with a smile.

"You need to trim your beard," she said. "You look like an excited teen who just figured out that he could grow his beard longer than half an inch."

He pursed his lips, his right eyebrow rising at her unsolicited advice. 

"I know you have a barber," she said, reaching up and running her fingers through his facial hair. She combed it down to look a little less wild until he lifted his chin up and to the side, away from her grooming. 

"Personal grooming tips aside, I'm sure you have more to share with me," he said.

"You have time to talk with me now?" she asked, peeking around him and surveying his quarters. 

"No, but that'll be true tomorrow and the day after that. Sit down," he said.

She made herself comfortable on his old sofa and watched as he grabbed a half full bottle of whiskey from the wet bar a few feet away. He brought it and two tumblers over, then sat down next to her, his weight heavy. As he poured them each several fingers worth of whiskey, she saw less of a man in him and more of a bear. Not like a yao guai, but like a pre-war grizzly bear she had seen in her books growing up. 

The boy had grown up into a bear.

He caught her staring at him as he handed her a glass.

"Are you really that surprised?" he asked, clinking his glass against hers. "Did you think I was going to stay a scrawny little kid forever?"

"No, but I guess I wasn't ready for it. You _were_ a pretty cute kid," she said as she took a sip from her whiskey. Her nose wrinkled up as the fumes hit her, the flavor leaving much to be desired. As far as wasteland whiskey went, it was pretty terrible.

"Oh god, Arthur," she said, pressing the back of her arm to her face, rubbing her sleeve on her nose. "That's awful."

"You get used to it," he said, sitting back. 

He stretched his legs out in front of them and from behind her sleeve, she could see him visibly relax. His blue eyes locked on hers and that's when she realized, in addition to everything else, he was no longer a shy boy always trying to keep her attention. Not that he ever had a hard time getting her to dote on him, but he had always been a little flustered when they spent time together. He didn't seem to be the least bit flustered right now.

"I... I found some..." Her words suddenly felt difficult from where she sat, the object of his gaze. "I found some books I thought you might like. Not that you have time to read anymore."

"Is that what's in there?" he asked, nodding to her pack on the floor, next to which Dogmeat had laid down dutifully, resting his chin on his paws.

"Some of it, yeah," she said.

"If you hauled them here, I'll find time to read them," he said.

Without thinking, she tipped her head back and slammed the rest of her whiskey, letting it burn her mouth and throat. The sensation brought tears to her eyes. Before she could put the glass down, he had the bottle in his hand and was pouring her more. She watched the amber liquid splash into the glass through her stinging eyes, hoping that another glass or so might get her over whatever it was she was feeling. She cleared her throat and after her left eye stopped twitching, she also sat back, doing her best to look comfortable.

She hadn't been ready for him to be so... good looking.

"I'm sure being an Elder has you extremely busy, so I won't be hurt," she said. "I doubt you have much time for anything... fun?"

"Like what, crawling up into the abandoned offices with some vault dweller to read the latest comic books she found?" he asked. "This may surprise you, but there hasn't been too many of those around lately."

"I miss that," she said, stretching her own legs out. They didn't reach nearly as far as his, but she tilted her foot so the tip of her boot rested up against his ankle. 

"I do, too," he said. "Life was easy back then."

"What you're doing is important, though," she said. "Even if it means you never get to have any fun. No... uh... no Mrs. Maxson in your life after I left?"

The look he levelled on her was so dry that she wasn't sure how to react. It was a look that intense conveyed all of the information she needed. All she could do was perk both her eyebrows and give a strained smile.

"Ah, no time for love then," she said.

"Of the 5% of the soldiers in my command that are women, no, none of them have become Mrs. Maxson," he said.

"Sorry," she muttered and took a drink from her glass, averting her eyes. 

He seemed annoyed, but she couldn't put her finger on exactly what about the topic annoyed him. Other than he was a young man in charge of a major arm of a giant military organization, which left little time to pursue the fairer sex. Ah yes, that was probably it. Of the things with which he was at constant war, his hormones were probably an unending struggle.

"I'll finish this glass and let you get back to your work," she said, sitting up. 

He put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back against the sofa. 

"Stay. Just forgive me if I'm short with you."

He ran his hand through his dark hair, which had been trimmed to an undercut, longer up top and shaved on the sides. It looked good on him, she had to admit. His head then rolled back onto the top of the sofa and he stared at the ceiling.

"You've been gone for three years. I'm not going to let you just leave after ten minutes of chatting," he said, turning his head to look over at her. "You were then and are still now one of my few true friends. So, tell me about what you saw out there."

A genuine smile spread across her face and she turned toward him, shifting her weight onto her hip. She then started in on various tales from her travels, of which she had hours to share. Tales from her dealings with the Midwestern outcasts, to her time wandering the Plains and the East Central Commonwealth. He asked few questions, only listening as one story would transition into the next, none of them quite getting a resolution. He had missed her and the adventures she always had to share. When he was younger, he had lived for her stories, since his world had been so small. But even now, he still enjoyed listening to her talk--he had seen more of the world since then, but she had a certain zeal that he could not replicate.

After awhile, she realized his eyes had drifted shut and his breathing had slowed. She wasn't sure if he was asleep, but he certainly seemed to be headed in that direction. She leaned in and examined him more closely. After a few seconds, she reached up and brushed some stray hair from his temple. 

"Did I put you to sleep?" she asked in a whisper.

"No," he replied, his voice also quiet. "Keep going. I'm listening." 

She hummed softly and ran her hand along his cheek before leaning back slightly. The whiskey was settling in and everything was beginning to feel much easier. Everything between the moment he answered the door to right now had been a product of her over thinking. Arthur was Arthur, and even a promotion to Elder wouldn't change who he was or what he meant to her. 

"I like what you've done to the place," she said, looking around the quarters that had once belonged to the Lyonses. 

He hadn't done a damned thing to the place. The furniture was the same, the layout was the same. Hell, the place even smelled the same. It was a time capsule that apparently every elder since Owyn had been afraid to touch. The only thing he had done was increase the incidental supply of alcohol. Everywhere she looked, there was a drink within arm's reach. 

"You're obviously being clever," he said. 

"I wouldn't go that far," she replied.

She stood, and with her hands clasped behind her back, strolled around the quarters a few paces at a time, sliding her finger along shelves now and then. There was less dust than she expected. Some poor squire probably had the duty of keeping the place clean. 

"Do you still write?" she asked. "I liked your stories."

"No," he said. "You might be surprised to hear that I have little time to moonlight as an author."

She pulled a book off the shelf, an old piece of pulp fiction from before the war. Some drivel about sea monsters kidnapping human women, with an offensive cover to round the package out. 

"You could do better than Monsters and Maidens of the Sea," she said, flipping the book over. "And I don't think you have much competition out there. God, have you read this?"

He popped an eye open and looked over at her where she stood by his odd assortment of old books. When she realized he was paying attention, she held the book up for him to see. The cover was a classic 2050s pinup of a woman practically spilling out of her torn dress, being carried off by some lagoon creature. She flipped it open and after a few seconds, began to giggle. 

"Oh my god, Arthur, this is terrible," she said. "Look, it's got all of the classics. 'Heaving bosoms', 'virile masculinity' ...'his driving need'?" 

She flipped the book down away from her where it slapped against her legs, a giant grin spreading across her face. 

"His driving need?" she repeated. "Do you like this?"

"It's an important artifact," he said.

"Shut up," she said. "I didn't know you read smut."

He could only clear his throat. Then, eager to change topics, he pointed to her pack. "Show me what you brought," he said.

She lifted the pulp back up and her eyes scanned over the lines, eating them up. 

"His swollen, pulsing core brushed against the delicate petals of her womanhood, her hips arching to meet his, obeying some unknown instinct. Her breathing was fast and desperate, matching the desire spilling from her moist needy place. He could take no more, impaling her womanhood with his engorged shaft," she read, waving her hand, her words emphatic. "Oh Thomas, she cried, as he filled her warm, dark haven. Please take me!"

She snapped the book shut and stared at him, amused to no end. 

"Are you finished?" he asked, his brow raised.

"Thomas probably is," she said, putting the book back on the shelf. "After penetrating that pearl of passion."

This elicited a hearty, but short laugh from him. The sound warmed her even more than the alcohol had. They had laughed so much together before he took on all this responsibility, and now everything felt right. She grabbed her pack by the strap and lifted it, half carrying it and half dragging it over to the sofa. When she sat, she discovered the distance between them had narrowed. The side of her leg pressed up against his. Did she misjudge the distance? She hadn't had that much to drink...

From deep within her pack, she pulled two hefty books, each several inches thick. Their covers were plain, meaning their dust covers and accompanying art were long since lost to the ages. But their spines each had golden script. He took one from her and turned it over in his hands. 

"Soldier of Wisdom?" he asked, reading the spine. 

"They're a trilogy, but I only found the first two," she said.

"What are they about?"

"A young woman who leaves her family farm to join the royal army instead of being married off to a sheep herder," she said. "She has a lot of really good adventures. She impresses her king and becomes his right hand woman. But, it's kind of serious. No dragons or anything like that. I think she's really cool."

"Of course you do," he said. "Does this farmer's daughter fall in love with the king?" 

"Well, she loves him very much as a liege. He's very good to her. But no, there's no romance. It's sort of why I like them. She's a strong lady, not defined by her relationships with men. You don't like strong women?"

"Of course I do," he said. "I bet the king gets lonely, though."

She paused, holding the second book in her lap. 

"Are we talking about the book still?" she asked. 

"Are we?"

She leaned over and put her book on the coffee table in front of them, drumming her fingers on its cover for a second. It was the only sound in the suddenly very still room. 

"Arthur... "

He hummed a response.

"Do you still have a crush on me after all these years?" 

"I'm not twelve," he said, propping the side of his head in his hand, watching her back. She looked over her shoulder at him, confusion written all over her face. Every muscle in her face seemed to be knit as she attempted to reconcile everything he had said over the last several minutes. 

"So... no, then," she said. 

"No, I do not have a crush on you."

She nodded and then looked over toward the door. Maybe it was time to go. Before she made a bigger idiot of herself, she thought. 

"Boys have crushes," he said. "We've already discussed this. I'm not a boy anymore."

Her head fell, her chin touching her chest as she let out an enormous sigh. She then spun around and poked a finger into his chest, which elicited a very large smile from him. She poked him a few times, very pointedly. He grabbed her hand and reeled her in toward him. 

"Do you know why I named the airship the Prydwen?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through his chest and straight into her. She didn't resist his grasp, watching his blue eyes grow slowly closer as his face neared hers. She gave him no answer. 

"It was the name of King Arthur's ship," he said. 

"You fancy yourself a king, then?" she asked.

"In a sense," he said. "And yes, I've been lonely."

"Arthur," she whispered. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, hoisting her into his lap. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing. She stared at his lips, wondering who would be the first to make that move. They sat there for a moment, each feeling a bit awkward for entirely different reasons. She circled her arms around his neck and then leaned in, pressing her mouth to his. The kiss was clumsy and honest, his response making it quite obvious he had kissed very few women before this. She pulled away and studied his face, unable to help her own coy expression. 

"That wasn't... "

Before she could finish, his lips met hers, cutting off her question. She smiled for a moment, and then leaned her body into his. The kiss was innocent at first and as eager as he was, he let her set the pace. Her lips were chapped from the dust and wind of the Wasteland and she smelled a lot like gun oil, both things that made him crave her more. His fingers pressed into her back, his grasp tightening. 

She put her hand on his face, cupping his jawline, tilting her head. Her mouth parted slightly and he felt her tongue slide over his bottom lip. As he groaned quietly, she slid her tongue into his mouth, where it met his. After a bit, she broke the kiss, but brushed her lips across his. 

"You can't have it all at once, Arthur," she murmured. 

"Don't," he said hoarsely. 

"Don't what?" 

"Don't go. Stay here with me. Tonight. Every night," he whispered. 

His eyes focused and honed in on her like lasers. She had never felt such an intense stare before. It would have sent shivers down her spine if it wasn't so paralyzing. His hands moved from her back to her hips, where he squeezed her soft flesh. His eyes moved from her face down her neck and over her chest. She was only in a t-shirt with nothing beneath it. He had long since appreciated her unwillingness to wear undergarments. His hands moved up along her sides, his thumbs trailing up the front of her torso. 

She grabbed his hands into hers and clutched onto them, curling her fingers in his so they were no longer grasping onto her. He was so gorgeous, every scar on his face adding to his appeal. 

"Oh Arthur," she said before embracing him, burying her face into his shoulder. 

He took a very deep breath and attempted to calm every excited part of him, physically and mentally. He wanted to rush things, he wanted to make up for lost time. He wanted to pick her up and carry her to his bedroom, where he would embarrassingly make a fool of himself for his total lack of experience. But she wasn't going to let him, not right now. 

She lifted her head after a minute and then kissed him again, slowly, her hands on his shoulders. 

"You don't have to be lonely anymore," she said. "But if you can hold off another night or so, I promise you won't regret it."

"You can stay in my old quarters," he said, his lips centimeters from hers still. "I want to know you're nearby, at least."

She gave him one last kiss and then climbed from his lap. Dogmeat lifted his head as she pulled her bag from the ground onto one shoulder. The dog stood as she patted her leg, stretching out his stiff muscles. She gave Arthur one last smile as she opened the door to the hallway. 

"I'm happy to be back," she said. 

He nodded as she left. When the door closed behind her, he grabbed the book and moaned dejectedly. How the hell was he going to get anything done over the next several days? His hand ran over his groin, rubbing his erection confined within his jumpsuit. He got up from the sofa and made his way to bed, where he tossed the book on his nightstand and unzipped his suit, peeling it from his upper body. He then sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his boots off. The rest of his jumpsuit followed, a leg at a time. He looked down at his rigid cock, remembering how minutes ago, she had been sitting on his lap. How close he had been to the fantasy he had entertained for so many years. He reclined into his pillows. Tonight would require another fantasy.


	2. The Elder's Orders

She hadn't slept so well in such a long time, the metal walls close and comforting. There was also something strangely pleasant about staying in his old quarters, a room that had gone largely unused since he had moved out of them and the Brotherhood had taken over the air base. 

She pulled on her clothes and tried to straighten them out as best as possible. They definitely weren't Brotherhood issued, so her first order of the morning was to visit the quartermaster and find herself a uniform. She checked her reflection in the small, scratched mirror that hung on the wall. If the uniforms did that much for the men, she hoped they'd be as flattering on her.

Dogmeat scampered out into the hall as soon as she opened the door and raced toward the stairs leading up to the bailey. For a dog she knew to be at least 9 years old, he showed few signs of slowing down other than requiring a few extra stretches in the morning. She let him out for fresh air and then made her way to the laboratory. She was not surprised when she saw several scientists hard at work on rebuilding Liberty Prime. That seemed to be the modus operandi for the Brotherhood. They couldn't let the the damned thing go, never seeming to appreciate the irony of using a giant robot that threw tactical nukes to solve their problems.

The armory was uncannily familiar, but the face occupying the quartermaster's post was new. Durga was gone and a new knight had taken her place. She was little disappointed. Even with as brisk as Durga had been, she had always come off as less stuffy than many of their colleagues. She asked for a uniform and made little chit-chat with the unfamiliar young man. He seemed to know who she was and attempted to ask a few questions, but she gave him a gentle, dismissive smile. Maybe she'd get to know him someday, but right now wasn't the time.

She returned to her quarters and pulled the orange uniform on, impressed not only at how well it fit, but just how comfortable it was. There wasn't a crease or fold out of place. Danse was right--it'd make wearing power armor much more tolerable. That was next on her list: figuring out what they intended to give to her. A top tier set of armor was one of the nice benefits of the rank Arthur had given her before she ran off. Though, her last set hadn't made it home with her and she was sure to catch hell for it.

A smile crept across her face, thinking about her promotion. Arthur had given it to her not long after he had received his own. Part of her knew it was for her accomplishments, the other part realized realized that favoritism was in play. Nobody had argued with his decision, though. She had earned enough respect with the right people by that time. But she was sure they gossiped. And if that gossip hadn't been renewed yet with her stepping foot through those gates, it would be soon.

He had made it quite clear the previous night what he wanted from her. It wasn't a question of whether she'd reciprocate, but instead when and how. To say she had been waiting years for this moment wasn't true--she had always adored him to some extent, but she hadn't considered him to be an object of sexual attraction. Until now, that is. Until he had managed to grow up into a beast of a man. She remembered with vivid clarity how he had smelled last night, how he had felt, the looks he had given her. How her young friend, more than anyone else ever in her entire life, had somehow suddenly filled her with a dizzying, compelling desire. 

"Christ," she said softly as she looked at her reflection again. "Am I a monster?"

To her relief, the reflection didn't answer. 

The question now was, how to approach the matter. Her initial intention had been to make him wait longer, to be the grown, strong woman like always, but now that she had worked herself up, she realized how silly that was. She wasn't any more grown than him, he'd just seen more shit at a younger age. That was it. Her impulse control was gone, her patience nullified. She thought for a moment, then pulled out a holotape and sat down at her terminal. This would do, she decided. 

***

Arthur stood talking to a knight captain about the strength of the ever growing parameter they controlled around DC, their increase in recruits leading to a much more secure city. He had gotten out of bed earlier than ever, not able to get much sleep. There were plenty of tasks with which to preoccupy him, or so he thought. But all day, his attention had wavered between whatever was at hand and the memory of her on his lap. He had found more reasons than normal to be alone, but it seemed like everything needed his attention today. He just had to make it through the day and then take a vertibird back to the Citadel to find her. To spend more time with her. 

As if his daydreams had summoned her, he noticed her over the captain's shoulder as she strolled across the tarmac, her hand shielding her eyes as she stared up at the Prydwen where it was moored above the airbase. His focus waned considerably as he admired her figure in the new jumpsuit. She then spotted him and lifted her hand. Her hips swayed as she approached the two of them, her walk hypnotic. 

"Elder," she said. "I've got that report you requested."

She held out a holotape. He looked at it, then back at her. He didn't remember asking for any report from her. Had he? He took it as the knight captain looked her over. 

"Excuse me," she said. "I was on my way to get fitted for a new suit of armor. Let me know if you have any questions about my report... sir."

"Thank you, Star Paladin," Arthur said. 

With that, she continued on her way. He cleared his throat loudly as the knight captain continued to stare after her. He realized there was no reason for him to feel insecure simply because another man gave her a good, long look, but he still preferred if they just didn't. Especially right in front of him.

He stared at the holotape as the captain finished giving his update. Arthur nodded a few times, then quietly dismissed the man. He definitely did not ask her for a report, he was sure of it, so he found the nearest terminal and inserted the tape. There was a single text file.

>take me

He snapped the holotape out of the terminal as fast as he could and shoved it in the pocket of his battlecoat. His mind raced--those two words exciting him on a level he hadn't felt before. He loved the thrill of battle, the adrenaline rush that came with victory, but this electrified him in a whole different way. He looked around to see if she was still within view, securing his coat in front by its belt in an effort to hide the bulge in his uniform. She couldn't have gone far. 

"Scribe," he called as he crossed the runway. 

A young scribe looked up from whatever duty he had been given, his eyes growing wide when he realized the Elder himself was barreling down on his position. He nearly dropped the stack of file folders he was holding.

"Yes sir!" he said with a salute, his voice practically squeaking.

"Did you see the Star Paladin come this way?" Arthur asked. He quickly described her, choosing his words carefully, and the scribe nodded. 

"Yes sir, I saw her heading toward that hanger," the scribe said, pointing in the direction she had gone.

Arthur headed in the direction the scribe indicated, feeling his head swim. All he had to do was find her... and then what? He wasn't capable of thinking that far ahead. He just knew that when he found her, she was in for it. He could hear the sound of his racing heart as it pounded in his skull, every step driven by increasing desire. The door to the hangar slammed against the wall as he pushed it open with more force than he had intended, causing everyone inside to look up. The hangar was full of bays of power armor and a dozen soldiers working on them. She was there, half way down the row, talking to Ingram. They were now also staring at him, thanks to his demanding entrance.

She smiled as he focused on her with fierce intensity. His nostrils flared and he walked over, everything about him seeming keyed up beyond belief, like an angry brahmin charging in her direction. He grabbed her by the arm right above her elbow. 

"Excuse me, Proctor," he said, his eyes not leaving her face. "I need to have a word with my Star Paladin." 

Without waiting for Ingram's response, he escorted the vault dweller to the back of the hangar, his grip tight on her elbow. She had a hard time keeping up with him as he walked fast enough to nearly be a run. Every few moments, he looked down at her without saying anything. Her expression was somewhere between cheerful and bewildered. She had gotten herself into this position, but he had caught her off guard with his sudden pursuit.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked. 

"I don't know," he said as they left the main bay and entered a hallway of old offices, most of which had become storage. 

His eyes scanned his options and he finally settled on one of the offices, dragging her through the door before closing it and pushing a heavy chair in front of it. The only light in the room came through the small dusty window at the top of the back wall. He turned and looked at her again, his resolve faltering slightly as he was faced with the object of his long-held desire. 

She pressed her body up against his and pulled his head down, kissing him eagerly, not willing to let him stop now. He wrapped his arms around her waist and practically growled into the kiss. He needed more of her. He unbuckled his battlecoat and let it fall to the ground, grinding his frame into hers. 

His want had turned to a need, his entire body feeling like someone had set him on fire. Grabbing her by the wrists, he pushed her back slightly. Her eyes widened in curiosity at the abrupt halt to their kiss. He then fumbled with the zipper on his jumpsuit, pulling it down, revealing his  
broad chest covered in dark hair. He pulled his arms free, feeling wildly uncoordinated, like he had never put on or taken one of these things off before, and then yanked the jumpsuit down past his hips, freeing his erection.

"Get on your knees and suck my dick," he said, his voice practically a pant. 

"Arthur," she said quietly.

"Do it," he demanded.

She nodded and then knelt down, positioning herself in front of his cock. She wrapped her hand around it, surprised at how thick he was. Her touch was all it took to earn a groan from him. She pulled his foreskin back gently, revealing his head, already glistening with pre-come. With her thumb, she rubbed the thick fluid across the firm, smooth skin. She stared at it for another moment, and then slipped the head of his cock between her lips. 

He reached down, touching the side of her head as he watched her move her hand up and down his shaft. He felt her tongue spiral around his head, the sensation feeling so good that it was nearly paralyzing. Her eyes flicked up as she drew more of him into her mouth, her gaze locked with his as her attention grew more intense, as her tongue seemed to curl around every inch of him. He found her eye contact to be profoundly satisfying. It was almost too much, but he couldn't not watch as her head bobbed back and forth with increasing zeal. If he allowed this to continue, she would finish him off in no time. 

He was ready to tell her to stop for a moment, the request on the tip of his tongue, when she slid his full length into her mouth, the tip of his dick sliding into her throat. Instead of the word "stop", he hissed several profanities as he couldn't take anymore. His colorful language became one long groan as he came. She was stone still, letting him spill down the back of her relaxed throat. After a few moments, she let his dick pop from her mouth and finally swallowed. She coughed softly and took a deep breath, doing her best to fight off her rising gag reflex. She hadn't been ready for just how much he had to give. 

"Stand up," he whispered. 

She did so gladly, her knees stiff from the unforgiving concrete floor. Before she could straighten herself out, she was in his arms again, his face in her neck. He pulled her skin between his teeth and nibbling it gently. 

"God, woman," he said, his voice now in her ear, low and pleased, his lips on her earlobe. "You did that too well. I didn't intend to... be done so quickly."

She grinned and ran her hands over his incredibly muscular pecs, through his chest hair. It was thick and pleasantly soft. She wished she could see him better. He was more man than she had seen in a long time and she really wanted to get a good _long_ look at his body. 

"Wait ten minutes and I bet you'll be ready again," she said. 

"Go up to the Prydwen," he said as he let her go. His entire face was flushed bright red as he pulled his jumpsuit back on. "Go to my quarters. Take your clothes off. Wait for me. I'll be up soon."

"Yes sir," she said, her voice silky. 

He took a hard look at her, the woman who had pleased him with little objection, the woman who was entertaining his careless self-indulgence, and he felt lust resurge within him. She was right--he'd be ready again soon. Very soon. With that, he freed the door and opened it for her. She reached up and squeezed his bicep as she passed by. And as she walked down the hallway away from him, he mentally indexed all the possibilities for her perfect ass. He intended to wreck her with his near decade-long's worth of fantasies before the day was through.


	3. Pills to Purge Melancholy

After peeling her uniform off, she sat down on the edge of Arthur's bed in his Prydwen quarters and looked around. The last time she had been in here was after his appointment to elder, as he showed her everything under his domain, probably in the hopes of impressing her. She shivered slightly, all of the steel not making a particularly cozy environment. She felt a bit vulnerable. She wanted this, she reminded herself, but she still felt nervous about what was about to happen. She was a grown woman and had plenty of lovers, but none of them had meant that much to her. Not like Arthur.

She tapped her fingers on her knees and turned her attention to the door. Waiting was excruciating. How long would he take? Was he going to make her wait on purpose? The more she thought, the more her heart crept up into her throat. She was starting to feel a little nauseated. She stood and began pacing, her arms crossed over her chest. When she heard the door open, she stopped dead in her tracks and watched as he slipped in through the smallest crack possible. 

He pulled his coat off and draped it on the back of a chair before approaching her. His eyes roamed along her form. A small part of him was surprised she had done as he asked. He let out a very long breath, as if he had been holding it in for hours, and reached out for her, putting his hands on her hips. Being this close to a naked woman with these intentions was new to him. There hadn't been any other woman he'd wanted as much as her. Like many other aspects of his life, his focus had been relentless.

He pulled her against him without saying anything and lifted her up off the floor, pushing his mouth to hers. He felt her let go, her body relaxing as he carried her over to his bed, where he laid her down. The old springs in the rusty frame creaked at their weight as he crawled on top of her, cradling the back of her head in his hand as he continued kissing her. 

He sat up, partially straddling her, his hands on her thighs. Her skin was so soft, it felt wonderful as he ran his fingers along her legs. Her chest rose and fell, her breasts beautiful as they settled toward the sides of her chest. She loved the way he looked at her body, the way his eyes ate up her figure--it was obvious by his expression that he had been waiting for so long to see her nude. 

His hand moved to her chest, taking her breast in his hand and squeezing it. The way it felt surpassed any of his expectations. His thumb swiped over her nipple and in response, she inhaled as her entire chest began to flush a darker shade. He then leaned back in and gingerly put his mouth around her nipple, grazing his tongue along it. He felt as she pushed her groin up against his leg that was between hers, slowly grinding herself on him. 

Having satisfied his curiosity, he sat up enough for her to tug at his zipper, opening his black jumpsuit again. This time, she could see him better. His broad shoulders, his muscular torso, his defined abdomen, and the hair that curled all the way down past his navel. He untied his boots and kicked them to the floor, pulling everything off until he was only wearing his holotags, which hung down the center of his chest. The day had taken its toll on his hair as it hung loosely down the side of his head. It was much longer than she realized, now that it wasn't impeccably styled.

"God, you're good looking," she said. 

He crawled back onto her, pushing her arms above her head before kissing her again, then ran his hands from her arms, down her sides, and along her hips. Another shiver ran down along her spine, although it had little to do with the chill. She wrapped her legs around him, hooking them on the backs of his thighs. He groaned as her change in position caused his cock to press up against her pussy. She wriggled a bit until his head slid along her warm folds.

"Tell me you've always wanted to fuck me," he said, the lust in his voice practically palpable.

He then rolled her onto her side and leaned back to look at her again. He pulled her top leg straight up into the air and stared at her ass, running his other hand along it. That hand trailed down to her pussy, his fingers probing her labia. She was already wet, which only excited him even further.

He spread her lips, pushing her body up gently so he could see more. Her folds were dark compared to the rest of her skin, the sight infinitely arousing. She let out a small moan as his fingers found the firm nub near the top of her lips. 

"Tell me," he said. 

"I've always wanted to fuck you, Arthur," she mewed. 

Her words made his cock pulse eagerly. He watched her response as he toyed with each fold and ridge of her pussy. 

"Show me what feels the best," he said. He was going to make a point of doing this right; he sure as hell wasn't going to mess it up. He had left whatever hangups he had about being inexperienced outside his door--if he couldn't do this well, he worried she'd never let him do it again.

She reached down and put his fingers back on her clit. 

"Rub there, like this," she said. 

He obeyed, pushing into her and rubbing in small slow circles like she had indicated. She moaned again. He straddled her bottom leg and let the other rest against his chest, squeezing her ass cheek as he played with her. While he could no longer see _what_ he was doing, he could measure _how well_ he was doing it by the look on her face. And the expressions she was making were intoxicating. 

"You've wanted me to play with your pussy for a long time, haven't you?" he asked. It wasn't really a question, but more of a demand for an admission. 

"Yes Arthur, yes," she gasped. He slapped her ass firmly, the sound ringing through his quarters. She let out a small cry in surprise. 

"Do you like that?" he asked, increasing the intensity of his rubbing. His two fingers pressed harder into the noticeably erect bud, abandoning the circular motion for a rapid back and forth. 

"Arthur," she moaned, "Put your dick in me."

"You haven't come yet," he said. 

"I will, trust me. Just put it in me," she begged. 

Hell if he was going to argue with her.

He pulled his hand away from her and stroked his engorged cock for a moment, before leaning it into her. His desire was so great it was nearly painful. With his other hand, he spread her open and guided himself into her based entirely on feel. She was so wet that she enveloped his head immediately. A guttural noise erupted from him at this sensation alone, and it rose in volume as he pushed further, sliding half of himself into her.

She reached down along her body and began rubbing her clit as she felt him penetrate her. It had been awhile since she'd last had sex, but he had gotten her so worked up, there was nothing unpleasant about the sensation. In fact, he felt incredible.

"Tell me you liked sucking my dick," he said, grabbing her hip roughly. 

His rhythm was inelegant and off tempo as he began fucking her, his lack of skill in this particular area initially obvious, but only to him. She was too occupied at the moment to think twice about how well he was or wasn't doing. 

"I loved sucking your dick, Arthur," she said, her words stumbling and urgent as she reveled in the pleasure. He had already gotten her most of the way--she would come soon. 

He slapped her ass again. 

"God damn right," he said. 

His pace evened out and he fell into a natural rhythm as he moved in and out of her. She felt so velvety, so slick and warm. Sweat beaded his skin and his heart seemed to race erratically. The walls of her pussy around him began to contract, gripping onto him as her smaller moans crescendoed into a loud cry, her voice gorgeous as she came. Her hand slid away from her, reaching out and gripping the side of the mattress as he now pummeled her, his speed accelerating. His head lolled back, his eyes shut tightly. This feeling was sheer ecstasy with no equal.

She writhed under him and her pussy clamped onto his cock firmly, her muscles no longer simply contracting. The feeling was a surprise, not something he had expected, and it sent him over the edge. His body shuddered as he all but roared, letting loose, every nerve in his body lighting up to reward him. He slammed himself into her a few more times before coming to a shaky stop, drops of sweat falling from his head onto her legs. He clutched onto her for a moment, catching his breath, then rolled her onto her back and collapsed onto his side next to her, where he waited for his heart to calm down. At that moment, he was positive he was about to have a heart attack. 

She sighed happily and closed her eyes as the tension melted completely from her body, the feeling of him next to her amazing. Everything was that beautiful post-coitus hazy warmth she loved so much, a few twitches and shudders running through her body as the last of her orgasm faded. She cuddled into his chest and snaked her arm across his hip. 

"Ad Victoriam," she said with an enormous grin.

"Ad fucking Victoriam," he replied through unsteady breaths.

"God, don't die, Arthur," she said, only half in jest as she caressed his lower back gently. 

"I'm not going to die," he said, then took several deep breaths... although he wasn't certain that was true. Eventually, his heart rate slowed and he stared at the ceiling above them, his eyes able to focus properly again. He ran his hand through his damp hair.

"There's worse ways to go, though," he said, attempting to crack smile. 

His expression was unsteady, his face patchy in color. It was hard for her to tell what exactly was distressing him so much. She pulled herself out of his bed and fetched a can of purified water from his shelves, cracking it open and bringing it to him. He took it from her gladly, propping himself up on his elbow to drink it, downing all of it within seconds. She sat back down and combed her fingers through his dark hair, moving it from his forehead, watching him carefully. 

"I'm not sure you can take much more of that," she teased. "We'd better call it a day."

"I'm not done with you until the entire Capital Wasteland has heard you scream my name," he said, tossing the empty can aside. It clattered on the floor, rolling under his desk.

"You're too ambitious."

He was looking much better now, his skin tone quickly returning to a normal shade of pink. 

"Plus, I've been mentally indexing all of the places where I've wanted to have sex with you for years," he said.

She laughed, kissing his jaw through his beard, which was now as unkempt as the rest of his hair. 

"You're too busy to have that much sex," she said. 

"I'll give up sleeping," he said. 

"I don't think there are enough chems in the world for that."

He quickly pinned her underneath him before she could do anything to defend herself, her back pressed against the mattress. She let out a soft laugh, almost a giggle, as he rested his weight on top of her with a finesse that did not seem to match the sheer bulk of his body. 

"Where do you get all of this energy?" she asked in near disbelief as he playfully manhandled her body, kissing along her shoulder. 

"That's my secret," he said. "All you have to do is enjoy it."

Her eyes lit up and she squealed in astonishment as she felt his erection against her leg. 

"You're not ready again, are you?" she asked. 

"I never stopped being ready. I told you that I wasn't finished with you," he said as he held her body to his and pushed her legs back open with his own. She let her whole body go limp with a dreamy exhale as he slid back into her. 

"I'll take it easier this time. I want to truly feel you," he muttered, his body rocking slowly against hers. 

"I'm not sure I'll be able to come again any time soon," she said. "But I'm not going to stop you."

"You still like it?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers. 

"I still like it," she said with a nod and a pleased smile. "I like being with you."

His heart skipped again, but this time, it wasn't out of physical distress. He locked her in another kiss, willing to do this until she told him to stop. The evening became night, yet she never did.


End file.
